Every Day is a Good Day

Images courtesy: Barfield family

Whenever U.S. Marine Lance Cpl. Jason Barfield called his parents from Afghanistan, he had the same message.

"We'd ask him how things were going over there and he'd say 'every day is a good day,'" Lance Cpl. Barfield's father, Ray Barfield, told The Unknown Soldiers. "He truly lived that motto."

As a young boy growing up in Alabama, Jason embraced each day with a fervor that took even his mother by surprise.

"I used to have to watch him in stores because he would just talk to everyone," Kelli Barfield said. "He never had a fear of being in front of others ... he never had a fear of people."

From a young age, Jason was guided by the compassion he felt for others. After a close friend's mother was murdered when Jason was in third grade, he started raising funds to help the child's family.

"He loved everybody," Kelli said.

Upon graduating from high school in Ashford, Ala., Jason knew he wanted to join the military. After eventually choosing the Marine Corps, the young recruit pledged to do everything in his power to defend America.

"He said 'I want to be a part of the best ... I want to make a difference,'" Jason's mom said. "From that day forward, he never looked back."

In September 2011 — ten years after the 9/11 attacks — Jason would deploy to Afghanistan for the first time. But before he left, his dad sat him down for what Ray called "the talk." While the topic of discussion was unthinkable, Ray asked his son to share his final wishes.

"We started talking about it a little before I said 'Jason, I can't talk about this anymore ... you're coming back,'" Ray said.

Unfazed, Jason wrote down instructions for his funeral and gave the piece of paper to his dad.

"Jason was like an old soul in a young body," his father said.

The night before deploying, Jason's roommate heard him crying.

"They all just assumed he was nervous about the deployment," Kelli said. "But when (Jason's roommate) got to the room, it had nothing to with him being scared about being over there."

Jason wasn't worried about himself.

"He was nervous about making a mistake and getting one of his guys killed," Jason's mom said. "It wasn't all about him ... it was about keeping the others safe."

In Afghanistan, Jason displayed the same concern for others that his mom first noticed when he was younger.

"He wanted to boost everyone's morale," Kelli said. "He even started learning the language so he could barter with the Afghanis for food for his (fellow Marines)."

In the early morning hours of Oct. 23, 2011, Jason called home.

"I just want you to know how much I love you, mom," the Marine said.

"Dad, I just want to give you a big old hug," Jason also said. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I just want you to know."

The next day, the Marine's devastated father reached into his wallet and retrieved the list of his son's final wishes. After embracing every day for 22 years, Jason's life had ended with an ultimate sacrifice.

According to the Pentagon, Lance Cpl. Jason Barfield was killed in Afghanistan's Helmand Province on Oct. 24, 2011. The fallen Marine's parents said Jason alerted his platoon to a potential threat before kneeling on top of an improvised explosive device. While Jason died instantly, everyone else on the patrol survived.

When Ray and Kelli later met the seven brave Marines who served with Jason during his final moments, they shared a singular message.

"If it had not been for his actions that morning, they would not be alive today," Jason's grieving father said.

On what would have been his 24th birthday, Jason was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star with Valor. But more important than any medal, his parents said, is the legacy their son left behind for his 12-year-old sister.

"Never forget who you are," Kelli tells her daughter. "Strive each day to be a better person."

Every day is a good day. If we strive to follow the example of Lance Cpl. Jason Barfield, each day will be even better.

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Note: This column was edited on Aug. 9 at 3:30 p.m. EST

Cruel Summer

Image courtesy: U.S. Air Force/David Tucker

For most Americans, summer is a time for vacations, barbeques and beaches. For the fraction of one percent that's still shouldering the heaviest burdens of America's longest war, summer is a time for sacrifice.

"First there was a shock, and then I felt numb," Sonja Stoeckli, mother of U.S. Army Spc. Kyle Stoeckli, said. "It's even physical ... it's a physical pain that's stabbing inside of my heart."

Before Sonja's 21-year-old son left for Afghanistan late last year, he got two tattoos. The first was on his heart.

"It says 'I sustain myself with the love of my family and thrive off the support of my friends,'" Spc. Stoeckli's mother said.

Since he was a little boy, Kyle and the Army always seemed like a logical fit.

"He always liked the military," Sonja said. "His real decision was when he came out of high school ... that's when he said 'I definitely want to join the Army.'"

After Kyle announced his intention to enlist, his mother's relatives, who live in Switzerland, asked Sonja why she didn't try to talk her son out of his decision.

"That's his passion, that's what he wants, and that's his life," she said. "That was his will: to go into the Army and serve for America."

Kyle, who grew up in Chesterfield County, Va., near Richmond, spent time with his mom, dad, and older sister before deploying to Afghanistan. When he left, the young soldier was confident in his ability to complete a very difficult mission.

"He just knew he had a job to do and he did it," Kyle's mother said. "He didn't hesitate at all."

Every two or three weeks, Kyle would call his mom with enthusiastic updates about the accomplishments of his unit while patrolling volatile southern Afghanistan.

"He was soldier of the month in either February or March because (his commanders noted) what a positive outlook he had," Sonja said. "His smile and his positivity were contagious throughout the platoon."

On May 30, Kyle called home and gave his mom the best news that any parent with a son or daughter at war can possibly hear. In just a few days, the platoon would pack up and leave Afghanistan.

"He was so happy," the soldier's mom said. "He said, 'We're coming home.'"

Two days later, Sonja was standing across from two Army officers with Kyle's father. They informed both parents that their son was dead.

"I just couldn't breathe anymore. ... I broke down," she said. "Then, of course, we had to call our daughter too, which I knew would be horrible."

According to the Department of Defense, Spc. Kyle Stoeckli was killed on June 1 by an improvised explosive device planted by enemy fighters. The Fort Bliss, Texas-based soldier was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star for the courage he displayed in combat.

"He saved a lot of lives," Sonja said. "There was one soldier at Fort Bliss who said Kyle went beyond his fears and did what he had to do."

Sonja, who spoke to The Unknown Soldiers six weeks after Kyle's death, was overwhelmed with gratitude for the support her family has received.

"In every way, it was enormous," she said. "It felt like Kyle brought the whole community together."

The Kyle P. Stoeckli Memorial Scholarship Fund has already been established to carry on the soldier's selfless legacy.

"I want people to remember him as a really charismatic, loving guy who always smiled and always brought the smiles out on everybody's faces," Sonja said.

Hopefully, as many Americans enjoy their summers, the enormous sacrifices of the brave men and women still serving in Afghanistan will stop fading into the sunset.

"The reality, the longing and the pain is really expanding," Kyle's grieving mother said. "Once all the crowds and (events) are over, that's when the real awareness and the real pain sets in."

Spc. Kyle Stoeckli's second tattoo was a Bible verse: John 15:13. In many ways, it represents the heroism of our troops and their families.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends," the tattooed verse said.

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Images courtesy: Stoeckli family

Josh's Dog

Images courtesy: Tammie Ashley

Before Sgt. Joshua Ashley left for his first combat deployment, his thoughts weren't centered on his own safety. The Marine K-9 handler was particularly concerned about his military working dog, Sirius.

"Josh loved his dog," Sgt. Ashley's mother, Tammie, told The Unknown Soldiers. "He had told his oldest brother that if anything ever happened to Sirius, he didn't think he could deal with it."

The affinity Josh had for the German Shepherd became clear shortly before they left for Afghanistan's rugged, war-torn landscape.

"I was able to meet Sirius before they deployed," Josh's mom said. "You could see the bond between them."

Since Josh was a young boy growing up in Rancho Cucamonga, Calif., he demonstrated many of the qualities championed by the Marine Corps, including defending the defenseless.

"If there were little kids being (bullied) on the bus, he would stick up for them," Tammie said. "He was always a protector."

As a 12-year-old, Josh watched the horrors of 9/11 unfold on live television, and he listened to his mom call several friends who narrowly escaped the World Trade Center's collapsing towers.

"It was kind of personal to us, since we knew people who were in the buildings," she said.

Josh resolved to dedicate his life to serving others, first in the military and ultimately as a police officer. But with America at war, Tammie was worried about her son ending up on a perilous, faraway battlefield.

"I made him go to one year of college to make sure (the military) was what he wanted to do," she said.

After completing his freshman year, Josh told his mom, dad and brothers that he was joining the Marines.

"His goal in the Marine Corps was to deploy," Josh's mom said. "He didn't tell me how dangerous his job was."

As a K-9 handler, Josh was trained to lead searches for improvised explosive devices with a military working dog. Josh arrived in Afghanistan on May 27, 2012 — his 23rd birthday — and started going on missions with Sirius and members of the Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command.

"He was so excited at that point," the Marine's mom said. "He was ecstatic."

Two months into the deployment, Josh called home and told his mom that he planned to re-enlist in the Marine Corps. But upon his return from Afghanistan, Josh said he would likely start a new job that wouldn't include his trusted dog.

"In his position, he may not be able to have Sirius," Tammie said. "He wanted to adopt him, and asked if I would take him."

Tammie knew how much her son worried about Sirius, and did not hesitate in agreeing to care for her son's dog until Josh was eventually able to take over.

A few days later, Josh and Sirius left for a dangerous assignment in Afghanistan's volatile Helmand province, where so many U.S. troops have served and sacrificed during almost 12 years of war.

"He volunteered for this mission," Tammie said. "He was a go-getter and he always volunteered for everything."

Josh's unit and several Afghans were crossing a waterway on a windy night when Sirius jumped to the other side.

"Josh made sure Sirius got over, thankfully," the Marine's mother said. "And then Josh jumped over and hit it."

The July 19, 2012, IED explosion killed Sgt. Joshua Ashley. His beloved dog survived.

"They tested (Sirius) after," Tammie said. "At first, they could tell he knew something had happened."

More than a year after Josh's death, Tammie still deeply mourns the loss of her son. But she's also grateful for the support of her California community, as well as the Marine Corps, which posthumously awarded the Bronze Star with Valor to Josh on July 20.

"He's had buddies join the military because they were so proud of him," she said. "He's been my hero since he was born."

Tammie Ashley wants Americans to remember that brave volunteer warriors are still in harm's way. Sirius, the courageous dog that Tammie plans to adopt, is one of them.

"He's still an active K-9 and he's with one of Josh's good friends," she said. "But (the Marine) doesn't consider (Sirius) his dog. It's Josh's dog."

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Image courtesy: Cpl. Mark Garcia

The Text

Image courtesy: U.S. Army

On July 3, 2012, Carla Chandler Colvin got a lengthy text message from her 21-year-old son, who was serving in Afghanistan.

"When your child is in Afghanistan, you don't shut your cell phone off," Carla told The Unknown Soldiers. "You just never know."

As he sacrificed as a soldier, U.S. Army Pfc. Julian Colvin made sure Carla knew how much he appreciated her many years of sacrifices as a mom.

"Remember those dark nights when I would hear you crying and I would climb into your bed?" Julian wrote. "I would tell you 'don't worry, Mom, everything is going to be all right.'"

Pfc. Colvin did not become a compassionate, selfless warrior by accident.

"I placed a lot of responsibility on (Julian) to prepare him for manhood," Carla said. "I was not necessarily the kind of parent that a teenager wanted."

After Julian's high school graduation, his mom rewarded him with a year off from work and school while living at her Birmingham, Ala., home. But at the conclusion of his yearlong holiday, Julian would have to present his mom with a comprehensive career plan.

"A lot of young people don't know what they want to do at 18," Carla said. "But (Julian) finally created his plan, and decided emphatically that he wanted to enlist in the U.S. Army."

After carefully discussing the decision with his mom, Julian started training to become a combat engineer.

"As a parent, hearing the term 'combat' on the title of your child will send you into fear," she said. "I knew immediately he would be deployed to Afghanistan."

Images courtesy: Carla Chandler Colvin

After basic training, Julian graduated from Airborne School at Georgia's Fort Benning and was stationed at North Carolina's Fort Bragg.

"He completed jump school and said, 'Mom, I got my wings and I'm dedicating my first set of wings to you,'" Carla said.

While his training's conclusion was jubilant, the 2011 holiday season, which fell just before Julian's first deployment, was somber. For three days, the paratrooper sat alone in the same room where he decided to enlist. Upon emerging, Julian said something that stunned his mother and several relatives.

"I'm going to Afghanistan, and I'm going to enjoy this time with you," he said. "Because the next time you see me, I might be in a wooden box."

Even though the soldier's words made Carla cry, she was also immeasurably proud.

"He was so fearless," she said. "He wanted us to be in the reality of what could happen."

Julian deployed to Afghanistan in February 2012.

"Mom, it's more hostile than you can ever imagine," the soldier said that March.

When Julian later told his mom that a care package she sent was blown up by insurgents, Carla realized that her son's job centered on searching for improvised explosive devices. The risks were real, and on July 23, 2012, military messengers arrived at Carla's doorstep.

"That's when they delivered the most tragic, unthinkable news that a parent could receive," she said.

According to the Pentagon, Pfc. Julian Colvin and Staff Sgt. Richard Berry, 27, died in a July 22, 2012, roadside bomb attack in Kandahar, Afghanistan.

In the excruciating days that followed, Carla embraced Julian's flag-draped casket, wept at his funeral and accepted the condolences of President Obama and a U.S. Senator. While every moment was meaningful, nothing carried more weight than her final conversations with Julian.

"I want to let you know that everything you taught me has been so instrumental and helped me get through the rough times of this deployment," Julian told his mom.

Carla also marveled at Julian's concern for veterans who sometimes suffer from post-traumatic stress or struggle to find shelter or employment. Carla has since established A Soldier's Heart Foundation to address that very problem. By helping those in need, a grieving mother keeps her son's memory alive.

"I'm so tenacious and determined to make sure he's never forgotten," she said. "That keeps me going."

On the darkest nights, Carla Chandler Colvin still reads the text message that her son sent from halfway around the world. Even in death, Pfc. Julian Colvin still comforts the woman who helped him become an American hero.

"Don't worry, mom," he wrote. "Everything is going to be all right."

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The Gentle SEAL

Images courtesy: Ursula Ebbert

When Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin Ebbert deployed to Afghanistan in 2012, it wasn't only as a battle-hardened Navy SEAL. It was also as a compassionate U.S. Navy Corpsman who wanted to save as many lives as possible.

"He really didn't talk much about what he was doing over there in terms of being a SEAL," Petty Officer 1st Class Ebbert's wife, Ursula, told The Unknown Soldiers. "He's also a medic, and he was volunteering to work in the clinics on his free time."

Kevin, who planned to leave the Navy and study to become a doctor upon returning from Afghanistan, believed helping injured troops and civilians on the battlefield would eventually help him become a better physician.

"A lot of the calls were 'I got to help with this procedure' or 'I got to help save somebody's legs today,'" Ursula said. "He was really excited."

Ursula first met Kevin in 2002 near their hometown of Arcata, Calif. They got to know each other on a hiking trip arranged by their mothers, who are close friends.

"He's not a big talker, so I did most of the talking, but he's a very good listener," she said. "After four days of backpacking, we got very close."

Kevin, who studied music before eventually becoming a Navy SEAL, proposed to Ursula while away on a previous combat deployment.

"I got an email from Afghanistan with a PowerPoint presentation of different ring options," Ursula said. "We knew (our relationship) was serious, but I think he just wanted to see if I could handle a deployment."

After getting married on New Year's Eve, the new bride rapidly adjusted to life as a military spouse when Kevin left for Afghanistan on Sept. 25, 2012, the day after Ursula's birthday.

"On the second deployment, we were thinking about what comes after the Navy, which made it a lot harder," Ursula, 31, said. "It made it a lot harder to say goodbye this time."

On Thanksgiving, Kevin called his wife from Afghanistan to share some exciting news.

"He had just found out that it was likely that he was going to be back in mid-January (2013)," Ursula said. "It was the first I heard that he was going to be back in six weeks."

The next day, Kevin and his fellow SEALs left for a perilous combat mission.

"They were hiking into hostile territory," Ursula said. "The terrain they were moving through was a lot rougher than anticipated."

A decade after Kevin and Ursula started falling in love while hiking the California mountains, four Navy sailors rang the doorbell of their Virginia Beach home.

"They said 'we have some bad news ... Kevin was killed last night,'" she said.

According to the Pentagon, Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin Ebbert, 32, was killed on Nov. 24, 2012, while supporting stability operations in Afghanistan's Uruzgan Province. The fallen SEAL's wife said her husband was shot by the enemy during an ambush.

"These things happen," the grieving widow said. "You just think it won't happen to you."

As soon as news of the SEAL's death began to spread, mourners from Virginia to California surrounded Ursula and all of Kevin's loved ones with support.

"Gratitude is the number one thing that really struck me," Ursula said. "Kevin was a really quiet person and wasn't easy to get to know in that respect, but the chapel was standing room only."

For Ursula, seeing how many lives her husband touched turned initial feelings of anger into an overwhelming sense of pride.

"I was so proud of everything he'd done," she said. "I just wish he had more time."

During the funeral services, one college buddy summed up Kevin's legacy in a way that moved his wife.

"A gentle soul who was tough as nails," the friend said.

As Ursula Ebbert puts her life back together after an unimaginable tragedy, she is inspired by what Kevin left behind.

"He didn't lecture (people), he just lived his life according to his ideals," Ursula said. "That's an amazing legacy to leave, to push others to want to be better."

Hopefully, the legacy of fallen heroes like Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin Ebbert will push each of us toward being better, too.

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Fourth of July

File image courtesy: Sgt. 1st Class Kenneth Foss

For many Americans, July 4th is a day to grill hot dogs and watch fireworks. For U.S. Army Spc. Logan Ellard and his tactical explosive detection dog, Thor, it's another day to search for roadside bombs.

"I enjoy it out here," Spc. Ellard, speaking to The Unknown Soldiers from eastern Afghanistan on June 22, said. "Most of the terrain we're around is in the mountains."

Stationed in Afghanistan's rugged Paktika Province, the 22-year-old Houston, Texas, soldier has quickly learned to appreciate the luxuries that far too many of us take for granted. During our phone call, Ellard repeatedly expressed gratitude for having air conditioning on his forward remote operating base (FOB).

"The FOB is really nice," Ellard said.

The young soldier's upbeat, positive attitude is remarkable considering his daily responsibilities. As a tactical explosive detection dog handler, Ellard's job is to lead Thor into the mountains and make sure the ground beneath the boots of U.S. and Afghan troops is free of deadly bombs.

"There are many foothills and paths that haven't been cleared in a while," Ellard said.

Thor, a Belgian Malinois with an official rank of Sergeant, has been sniffing out enemy improvised explosive devices for four years. The dog's life-saving skills and friendly nature have endeared him to every soldier on the FOB.

"Everybody knows him and everybody loves seeing him," Ellard, who's been with Thor for eight months, said. "When I take him around, he brings the morale up of everyone immensely."

Keeping morale high is a crucial challenge for any combat unit. On June 8, the Headquarters and Headquarters Company of the 10th Mountain Division's 2nd Brigade Combat Team, which Ellard and Thor serve with, was struck by tragedy when an Afghan soldier reportedly opened fire on U.S. troops. The attack killed Lt. Col. Todd Clark, 40, and Maj. Jaimie Leonard, 39.

Thousands of miles from New York State, which both departed warriors called home, there are many thoughts and prayers for the Clark and Leonard families.

"Our hearts definitely go out to them," Ellard said. "We're greatly sad for them."

Even after a horrific act of violence, soldiers in Afghanistan must stay prepared for the unknown perils of the next mission. Every day, Ellard keeps Thor ready to find the next IED.

"We go out and hide (TNT or C4) on the FOB and give someone a route, or they hide them and give us a route," Ellard said. "We make sure our dog is still on odor every day so we know when we're outside, we make sure that we realize their change in behavior on explosive odor when we're outside the wire."

Thor, who sleeps in an air-conditioned or heated kennel, for which Ellard also expressed his thanks, has saved countless lives with his handler.

"If we're on a dismounted mission, walking, we'll be out front to make sure nobody gets hurt," Ellard said. "If we're on a mounted mission, we'll roll outside the wire, near the front truck."

When even the most gentle breeze of danger is felt inside the tall, desolate mountains, Ellard and Thor are the first soldiers to shield their fellow troops.

"I have two security guys who go with (Thor and me) and we search the area of interest," the soldier said.

Through voice commands and hand signals, Ellard communicates with Thor as if he was any other soldier.

"The very first thing they taught us in training is if (the dogs) don't listen to you on the leash, they won't listen to you off the leash," Ellard said.

At just 22 years of age, Ellard trusts a dog with his life.

"He's become my best friend," the soldier said. "We're together every day."

As you mark Independence Day, take a moment to think about Spc. Logan Ellard, Thor, and their fellow U.S. troops still serving in Afghanistan. While walking and driving through rough terrain infested by the Taliban and al-Qaida's bombs, these brave men, women and military service dogs remind us of the very heroes who first freed Americans from tyranny.

"I love my job," Ellard, who is spending July 4th in Afghanistan, said. "And I love doing my job."

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Image courtesy: Spc. Mark VanGerpen

Don't Forget

Image courtesy: Spc. Robert Porter

During a June trip to San Diego, I met the wife of a U.S. Navy bomb specialist who was recently killed while serving in Afghanistan. Still devastated and overwhelmed by grief, she shared a concern that is paramount, both now and in the difficult years to come.

"I just want to make sure people don't forget," she said.

The grieving widow's poignant words are similar to what I've heard from many Gold Star spouses, parents and siblings during almost three years of authoring this weekly column. While their loss hurts in a way very few can understand, they are comforted by knowing people remember their loved ones.

This is hard to write and probably even harder for many families of fallen service members to read. In 2013, most Americans are not only forgetting the sacrifices of the brave men and women who preserve their freedom; they're not noticing in the first place.

As of the month's 26th day, 15 U.S. troops had been killed in Afghanistan in June 2013. The fallen heroes are from small towns like Evans Mills, N.Y., Moseley, Va., and Panama, Okla., and large cities like Houston, Phoenix and Sacramento.

Aside from honorable ceremonies in their hometowns and on various military bases, where was the national outpouring for these fallen warriors and their families? Where were the candlelight vigils, celebrity-filled telethons and emotional speeches by national leaders on both sides of the political aisle?

Maybe some Americans were too busy at the beach, at the movies or watching the NBA and Stanley Cup Finals. Maybe some politicians on Capitol Hill, in particular, were too busy enjoying their annual Memorial Day Recess to remember what the holiday actually means.

I used to blame the media for a disturbing, dishonorable national trend. After all, the press has fostered a culture in which names of sex-tape performers are more recognizable to most than names like Sgt. Dakota Meyer, Sgt. 1st Class Leroy Petry, and Staff Sgt. Clinton Romesha, the most recent Afghanistan war heroes to receive the Medal of Honor.

In truth, we have nobody to blame but ourselves. Even after countless polls showing the national media is one of America's least respected, most mistrusted institutions, more journalists would report on the sacrifices on U.S. troops and their families if readers, viewers and web users pressured them to do so.

On June 18, 2013, terrorists attacked Bagram Airfield in Afghanistan with mortar fire. According to the Pentagon, four U.S. Army soldiers — Sgt. Justin Johnson, 25, of Hobe Sound, Fla., Spc. Ember Alt, 21, of Beech Island, S.C., Spc. Robert Ellis, 21, of Kennewick, Wash., and Spc. William Moody, 30, of Burleson, Texas — were killed in the attack.

Image courtesy: U.S. Air Force/Greg Davis

I first heard about the battle at Bagram while watching CNN at San Antonio International Airport. Many national media outlets did report news of the attack, even if some didn't subsequently report the names of the American heroes killed. After all, there were other stories to follow, like the name of Kanye West and Kim Kardashian's baby.

The media is an easy target. The much more difficult one to identify is the one staring at each of us in the mirror.

We are Americans. Thousands of good men and women have died and suffered physical and emotional trauma to give us the privilege of uttering those three words. What being an American will mean, long after the war in Afghanistan ends, is up to us.

The name of the fallen U.S. Navy hero whose wife I was honored to meet is Lt. Chris Mosko. A 28-year-old explosive ordnance disposal platoon commander, Lt. Mosko was born in Massachusetts before living different parts of his life in Connecticut, Delaware, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Florida and California.

During his years of military service, Chris disabled numerous enemy improvised explosive devices (IEDs) on post-9/11 battlefields. The elimination of these bombs saved countless lives, including those of innocent children. Chris was killed by an IED in Afghanistan on Apr. 26, 2012.

Will we remember Chris and his fallen brothers and sisters? Will we salute their honorable, voluntary service by overcoming our collective discomfort about discussing the sacrifices being made by the tiny percentage of the population that fights our nation's wars?

Hopefully, we will remember Amanda Mosko's words: "Don't forget."

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Image courtesy: Mosko family

The Rescuers

Images courtesy: Char Fontan Westfall

Shortly after word reached military commanders that four U.S. Navy SEALs were engulfed in a chaotic Afghanistan firefight, Chief Petty Officer (SEAL) Jacques Fontan boarded a helicopter to aid in their rescue.

"I was always worried about him and always praying for him," Chief Petty Officer Fontan's wife, Char, told The Unknown Soldiers. "But I never had any doubt that he was coming home."

In May 1996, nine years before he sprung to action during Operation Red Wings, Jacques was a Navy sailor stationed in Jacksonville, Fla., when he met Char, who was working as a lifeguard at several pools on base.

"He was a rescue swimmer instructor," Char said. "We shared the same pools."

Char and Jacques were instantly drawn to each other.

"We just hit it off ... we immediately clicked," she said. "We had a good time together and enjoyed a lot of the same activities."

In 1998, Jacques was about to leave the Navy when he was given a shot at Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training. After six painstaking, rigorous months at BUD/S, Jacques earned his Navy SEAL trident and quickly proposed to Char. They were married in 2000.

Everything changed for the Fontans when 9/11 jolted the entire military community. From the beginning, it was clear to Char that Navy SEALs would play a key role in hunting down the terrorists responsible for attacking America.

"I went from having a happy-go-lucky life and living in a bubble to realizing that (Jacques) was going to be much more involved," she said. "I think it just became much more real what his job was and the danger he was going to be in."

By 2003, Jacques was leaving for missions so secret that he often couldn't tell his wife which countries he'd be fighting in.

"He told me we weren't going to speak for a three month period," Char said. "To this day, I still don't know where they were."

In April 2005, Jacques was permitted to tell his wife that he was leaving for Afghanistan. It was supposed to be his final combat deployment after almost seven years as a Navy SEAL.

"We were going to start a family and enjoy some downtime," Char said of their plans upon Jacques' return.

Less than 48 hours before the June 28, 2005, rescue mission Jacques didn't know was on the horizon, Char ended a phone call with her husband as she always did.

"Be careful," she said.

"We're just flying around in helicopters," Jacques, shielding his wife from worry, said. "It's no big deal."

After a day tutoring a child with autism in Virginia Beach, where Jacques was stationed, Char was at a pizza parlor with the boy and his brother when she saw a troubling news report.

"I saw something on TV about a helicopter crash, and I remember saying a prayer right there for those families," she said. "Then I got a call from one of the (Navy SEAL) wives, and from that point on, I just had a really bad feeling thinking about what I saw on the TV."

Soon after, Char was informed that her husband, Chief Petty Officer Jacques Fontan, 36, was killed when a rocket-propelled grenade struck his helicopter. Seven fellow Navy SEALs and eight Army special operations soldiers died in the attack.

Of the four SEAL heroes fighting on the ground, three were killed and one survived. As the U.S. Navy summary of action notes, June 28, 2005, at that point, "was the single largest loss of life for Naval Special Warfare since World War II."

Eight years later, with bestselling books and a forthcoming major motion picture now telling the Operation Red Wings story, Char Fontan Westfall is remarried and raising children. To this day, when a Navy SEAL is killed in battle, Char springs to action to comfort their loved ones.

"It's my way to thank God and also make Jacques proud and also keep his memory alive," she said.

From rescue swimmer instructor and lifeguard to Navy SEAL hero and Navy SEAL widow, one American couple managed to impact countless lives.

"People say, 'do you think he would have still gone if he knew he wasn't coming back?'" Char said. "And I say he would have."

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Two Candles

Images courtesy: Ana Sabrina Carmona

Ana Sabrina Carmona was talking to her fiance, U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Rex Schad, on March 10 when the soldier, who was deployed to Afghanistan, asked her to do him a favor.

"Please light a candle for my buddy, Wittman," Staff Sgt. Schad said.

Sgt. Aaron Wittman, 28, of Chester, Va., was killed by enemy fire on Jan. 10 in Afghanistan's Nangarhar Province. His death deeply impacted soldiers serving in eastern Afghanistan with the Army's 3rd Battalion, 69th Armor Regiment, including Rex.

"It was the first time it hit (Rex) that 'it could have been me,'" Rex's fiancee told The Unknown Soldiers.

Ana Sabrina met Rex through a mutual friend while they were both living in Savannah, Ga.

"We just talked for hours," she said about their first date in one of Savannah's historic squares. "We decided that we were going to be New Year's dates."

After celebrating the dawn of 2012 together, Rex and Ana Sabrina became inseparable.

"It was this whirlwind romance," she said. "I'd never experienced being with a military man, and I didn't really know the risks."

Eleven months later, Rex told Ana Sabrina that he wanted to marry her just before leaving for Afghanistan. After subsequently mailing her a ring just in time for New Year's Eve, the deployed soldier and his bride-to-be started to plan their wedding.

"I can't wait to marry you," Rex often told Ana Sabrina during daily phone conversations. "I can't wait to come back."

First, Rex, who was on his second deployment to Afghanistan, knew he had an important job to do. Winter was coming to a close, which meant the Taliban's annual spring offensive was about to commence.

"As soon as the ice melts, it's going to get bad," the soldier told his fiancee in early March.

Ana Sabrina didn't know that Rex had already saved multiple lives on the battlefield. The Army squad leader was too humble to take credit for his accomplishments.

"Rex was a huge hero and he never even told us," Ana Sabrina said. "He was the ultimate military man ... he was a great soldier."

After Rex asked his fiancee to light a candle for Sgt. Aaron Wittman on March 10, Ana Sabrina, who lives in Atlanta, became nervous when he didn't call her the following morning.

"Sure enough, later that night, his mother called me and told me he was gone," Ana Sabrina said.

According to the Department of Defense, Staff Sgt. Rex Schad, 26, and a fellow soldier, Capt. Andrew Pedersen-Keel, 28, of South Miami, Fla., died March 11 in the Jalrez District of Afghanistan's Wardak Province when they were attacked by small arms fire. Multiple reports said the soldiers were killed when an attacker dressed as an Afghan police officer opened fire on U.S. troops.

A few days later, Ana Sabrina was in Edmond, Okla., where her fiance grew up, to attend Rex's funeral with his grieving family and friends.

"I was walking down an aisle, but it was not my wedding," she said. "It was to his casket."

Instead of reciting her vows at their wedding, Ana Sabrina, 23, read them aloud at Rex's memorial service. While the pain of losing her future husband remains excruciating and surreal, Ana Sabrina continues to take comfort in what she witnessed in Oklahoma.

"I could tell that he was so loved and it was amazing to be able to see that and experience it," she said. "I think that's a lot of what's gotten me through this ... the support of everyone and the love they had for Rex."

Rex, who was also survived by his mother, father and brother, left a lasting imprint on many, including the woman he was so excited to marry.

"I want to continue living for him," she said. "That said; I don't take things for granted anymore."

Each night, Ana Sabrina Carmona lights a candle for two fallen heroes who made the ultimate sacrifice in 2013: Sgt. Aaron Wittman and Staff Sgt. Rex Schad.

"It's crazy to me that I'm lighting two candles now," she said. "But that was Rex's request."

COPYRIGHT 2013 CREATORS.COM

The Last Mission

Images courtesy: Staff Sgt. Brian Jopek (Ret.)

U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Brian Jopek was deployed to Iraq when his oldest son, Ryan, also volunteered to serve his country.

"He went to basic training when I was in Iraq," Staff Sgt. Jopek, who has since retired from the Wisconsin Army National Guard, told The Unknown Soldiers.

Brian also missed his son's high school graduation while serving in combat, but always stayed in close contact with Ryan to give him pointers on life as a soldier.

"Keep your eyes open, keep your head low, and don't get complacent," Brian often told his eldest son.

Born in Nebraska, Ryan spent his formative years in Kansas before attending the last two years of high school in Merrill, Wis., a small city on the picturesque Wisconsin River.

After suffering an early football injury, Ryan grew to love the basketball court, where he excelled from beyond the arc.

"It was just incredible to see him hit those shots," his dad said. "The other guys were a lot faster, but he was the one guy who could hit those three-point shots."

Ryan joined the Army National Guard in 2003, just as thousands of American troops were beginning to fight the nation's second war since the 9/11 attacks.

"We were very proud of him," Brian said. "He was willing to do just about anything for anyone else ... whatever he could."

Not yet old enough to legally buy a beer, Sgt. Ryan Jopek deployed to Iraq during one of its most volatile, violent chapters. With his dad's advice in the back of his mind, the Cavalry Scout would often patrol the war-torn country's streets while manning the "gun tub" atop an armored military Humvee.

Ryan loved trucks since he was a boy.

"I took him to a couple monster truck shows when he was a little kid," Brian said. "He liked to watch monster trucks."

Ryan owned a 1966 Chevrolet pickup truck that he affectionately named "Walter" — after his all-time favorite football player, Chicago Bears legend Walter Payton — which he meticulously washed and repaired. He took both "Walter" and a new car out for spins when he came home in June 2006 for a short break from his Iraq deployment.

"I think he was doing pretty well overall," Brian said of Ryan's spirits before returning to war. "He didn't want to go back, but he knew he needed to ... he didn't want to leave the guys he'd been deployed with."

On the night of Aug. 1, 2006, Brian was in a bar watching monster trucks on television when he thought of Ryan and their many fun-filled outings. With Ryan's deployment nearing its end, the dad was looking forward to spending even more quality time with his 20-year-old son.

"The next morning, I got the knock on the door," Brian said. "At first, I didn't think anything of it, but when I looked at the people and saw the two officers standing there, I knew."

According to the Pentagon, Sgt. Ryan Jopek was killed on Aug. 2, 2006, when an enemy improvised explosive device blew up next to his vehicle near Saddam Hussein's hometown of Tikrit. To this day, Brian is thankful that everyone riding with his son survived.

"The driver was able to get the Humvee out of the kill zone," he said. "Thank God — as bad as it was — that it wasn't worse."

The fallen soldier's father, mother and two siblings subsequently learned that Ryan's final act, carried out just a few days before he was scheduled to leave Iraq, was selfless and heroic.

"He volunteered to go on one last mission that he didn't have to go on," Brian said. "An opening came up on that last convoy, on that gun truck, and he took it. He said he'd go."

The day before what would have been Ryan's 27th birthday, Brian Jopek reflected, as he often does while driving "Walter" around Wisconsin, about his son's willingness to go on one final combat patrol.

"To me, that one last mission is a prime demonstration of what kind of kid he was," the Gold Star father and Iraq war veteran said. "When you're over there ... that's what it's about. It's about the guys next to you."

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